An Excerpt From Grantaire's Journal
by MlleGrantaire
Summary: Grantaire muses before he dies


It's almost dawn, and this is the last time I will ever take up my pen to write in this journal. I know that we're going to die here, Enjolras doesn't see it, dreamer that he is. That is why I love him, he brought back part of the faith I lost when my sister died, and I had hoped that when I met him he would accept me, he never has. I'm tired of being bitter, I'm 30 years old and I've lived most of my life bitter and lost in a drunken and pain filled haze. Sweet Fleur, I'm glad you can't see me now, I don't think you would recognize me.  
  
I still remember clearly the day she was born, I was just 10, but I loved her the moment I saw her. She had soft reddish-gold curls and big blue eyes. From that day I was never far from her. Our parents didn't really care, on the day of her christening they even let me name her. I chose Fleur, she was my flower and I often reminded her of the fact. After that she was left largely in the care of servants, just as I had been. I wanted her to have some love in her life, as soon, as was possible I had her moved into my room. It was rather an odd arraignment, but it suited us. If ever she woke in the night I was there to comfort her and put her back to sleep.  
  
I don't know that she thought much of our parents unless they wanted to see her, which was rare enough, she was just a girl, I was their son and heir. I didn't care much for our parents personally, Fleur was my universe, and I was the one teaching her to read and write not them. I think had things gone differently she would have saved me from myself.  
  
The safe happy world I had tried to create for Fleur collapsed when she turned 12 and contracted consumption. That night is all to clearly etched in my mind, it was a cold winter night and I had moved Fleur's bed closer to the fire to keep her warm, she'd had a cold for about a week and I didn't want her getting worse.  
  
I was trying to read something for one of my tutors, I was 22 and by all rights should have been at the University in Paris, but Fleur had begged to have me stay, and something in her softening face must have touched our father, cold bastard that he was. Oh yes, my flower was getting to be quite a lovely girl, though at 12 she was extremely thin, to thin for my liking, but I simply thought of it as part of her growing up.  
  
On this particular night she was coughing violently and though her back was to me I just knew something was wrong.  
  
The way her shoulders heaved worried me. I got up and went to her, "Fleur," I whispered touching her shoulder. She turned over and looked up at me with her huge eyes.  
  
"Anatol," her voice, normally smooth and soft, was high and thin. I was looking at a splattering of blood on the pillow beside her.  
  
I sat beside her and gathered her into my arms, "Shhh...little sister, I'm here."  
  
"I'm afraid, mon frere."  
  
I was afraid too, but I wasn't going to admit that to her, she needed my strength now more than ever. "Don't be, mon petite fleur, I'm here to protect you." I held her close and curled protectively around her, silently wishing I could destroy the illness I knew would rip her from my life.  
  
She held on to life for 2 years, I don't know where she found the strength, I'd like to think it was for love of me. She didn't want to leave me alone, but I knew her time was close one day in the Summer of her 14th year. On this day I picked her up and carried her to the stables, I knew she could walk, but she looked so fragile, I wanted to keep her sheltered in my embrace. Normally Fleur wouldn't go near horses, she was scared to death of the creatures, but I watched her push aside her fear as I lifted her gently onto the back of a docile mare. I mounted behind her and kicked the horse into a brisk trot, the wind rushing against us brought some of the color back to her pale gaunt cheeks and take away the smell of sickness. If it could have saved her I would have ridden like that forever, but I knew it was time to stop when she covered one of my hands with both of hers. I lifted her from the horses back and sat with her under a tree near the river.  
  
"I'm not afraid anymore, Anatol, and I don't want you to be either, I always loved you more than anyone," with those words her last precious breath slipped from her lungs.  
  
For the first time in 24 years I wept, two days later I saw her buried under that very tree then I left for Paris and never looked back until now. Dawn is coming, it won't be long now, weather I die here or in a prison I want to be buried under that tree next to my sister. I'm coming back to you, Fleur, just a little longer now. 


End file.
